


Destiny

by Thisiswhatmylifehasbecome



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Spring Fairy 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 04:14:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18770995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thisiswhatmylifehasbecome/pseuds/Thisiswhatmylifehasbecome
Summary: I got the immense honor of writing for the wonderful ShadeofAzmeinya! Shade, you've been such an idol for me and having been able to talk to you is, well I won't say it was a dream come true, but it's been an awesome experience. You're a wonderful person and I can only hope that my writing will one day reach a status such as yours. Hope you enjoy buddy :)





	Destiny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadeOfAzmeinya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeOfAzmeinya/gifts).



> I got the immense honor of writing for the wonderful ShadeofAzmeinya! Shade, you've been such an idol for me and having been able to talk to you is, well I won't say it was a dream come true, but it's been an awesome experience. You're a wonderful person and I can only hope that my writing will one day reach a status such as yours. Hope you enjoy buddy :)

Scars litter his chest. Some are very old, childhood stories of learning. Some are old, broken bones and other mistakes. Some, now, are new, but he pays no attention to them. How old they are doesn’t matter. Neither, really, how he got them. They are what made him. They are him. Cross-crossing, white, pink, pinched in the places where the skin did not lay smoothly as they healed. They litter his chest, his arms, legs. Miraculously, none on his face or neck. That was one less thing people could use to identify him.

Not that they had much of a chance in the first place. Hardly ever seen in public without a particular jacket or mask, even if he were to be spotted bareface who alive has seen his human face? His face is a black skull, torn here and there from years of use. The rubber has been lovingly repainted time and time again, the toothy smile the only thing keeping him company. His black and blue jacket was a security blanket; it kept him safe only if in theory. Combined the two items do keep him safe. No one dares cross the Vagabond. No one dares approach casually, only for a poor soul to be put to death. His name was spoken like a fervent prayer of the damned, feared and awed in the same sentence. An angel of death, some called him. If his god complex had grown any larger, he might have agreed. It took so much work to get where he was, so much pain and agony and loss he might as well be some sort of supernatural being just for being alive. 

He hadn’t always been like this. If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure anymore why he had chosen this path of life. Something tells him it was for something simple, like money, but even that isn’t so simple, now is it? Money turns the world around. It’s needed to survive. He could have always turned into a petty thief, and at one point he was sure he was one, but if he was going to either die or go to jail, why not make a legacy out of himself first? Make his death worth something. He could hardly believe the teenager that shared his name, a model that looked as if he would break in half if someone picked him up, or drop to his knees if a pretty enough face asked, was the same man that was the FIB’s top ten most wanted. He almost felt sorry for the guy. Wondered what his past self would think of him if they inexplicably met. 

Then he would shake his head and move on. Life moves on. And on. And on. Every day seemed like the same. Attempt to fall asleep at night. Fail. Get up. Eat. Either finish a job or gather a new one. Repeat. He made good money, great money, but it wasn’t enough. There was something he was missing. He knew what it was. He had had it, once or twice. Long ago, when he was still also Ryan and the Vagabond. But it had fallen apart and he was alone. Alone, alone, alone. With that stupid skull mask and the jacket that surely still had blood soaked into it and the scars that littered his chest. He’d take care of some plants, like he had once done so, or maybe even get a pet- animals, particularly cats and dogs, seemed to really like him. Maybe they could sense his heart wasn’t as black as he tried to make it out to be- but he hardly lived in the apartment he called home. His life was a busy one; didn’t mean he was happy. 

And then he met the Fakes, and everything he knew, everything he was used to, was turned inside out and tossed out the window like an ex’s belongings. He didn’t know this at the time of their first meeting, but the Fakes have a pretty funny way of getting under people’s skins. For some, it’s for the worst. Make an enemy of the FAHC, and your body won’t be discovered for a few weeks- if you’re lucky. If you’re even unluckier, your body will be found quickly. In that case, they were making a statement. A pretty ugly one. The LSPD usually loses a few rookies that day, their resignation letters still hot from the printer as they leave them on the captain’s desk. You don't cross the Fake AH Crew. They seem like a dysfunctional family, and in honesty they are, but they know how to get their shit together. God forbid someone touches one of them. Think the Vagabond is scary? Try having a whole crew with skills similar to his come after you. You'd really wish you weren't born.

If you’re someone like Ryan, it’s for the best. They helped him find what he thought he has lost: humanity. The ability to love. To care for another human being. They were scared of him at first, naturally. Why wouldn't they be? They knew his reputation. It was that that got him hired in the first place. His brutality, his ability to kill with ease and still be unknown? That was a chess piece they needed. The final step in their plan to be unstoppable.

Of course, it wasn't easy, gaining Ryan's trust. You don't overcome years of paranoia overnight. He swore it would be one job and that was it. It was good money; how could he resist? But one became two, then three. Suddenly a whole year passed since Ryan "joined" their ranks. He found it so easy to like them, each having their own unique personality and charms. He found himself hanging around the penthouse more and more, just listening in to their every day conversations. Started staying the night around the half year mark. It was convenient, he told himself. Saves time travelling. The day he joined, that one year mark, he took off his mask around them for the first time. They hadn't betrayed him yet; they could be trusted. Could they? He hoped so, certainly. It became easier to open up after that. Talking more, wearing the mask less and less. Found himself fast asleep on the couch one day, but he wasn't alone. They had dogpiled in around him, his head in Geoff's lap, feet in Jack's, Michael on the floor in front of them as well as Jeremy, with Gavin laying directly on top of him. It startled him, and perhaps they knew it would, but it took just a simple kiss on the cheek from Gav and Geoff's rough but loving fingers running through his hair to convince him to stay where he was. It was comfortable, anyways.

-

Ryan stares over the balcony railing, over the city that he loves and so desperately hates. A cigarette hangs limply in his hand, smoke curling lazily into the air. It’s a warm Summer night, but there’s a smell in the air that warns fall is approaching. 

He isn’t sure what his destiny is. He isn’t sure of a lot of things, in retrospect. In fact, he isn’t sure why he was even thinking of his destiny in the first place. Perhaps it was the uncertainty of life. But the laughter coming from behind him through the open glass door cemented just one thing for him, something as permanent as the scars that litter his body: he belonged with the Fakes. He loved them, as much as they loved him. An old fear bubbled low in his stomach, threatening to take over and remind him why he had chosen to be alone-

“RYAN, MICHAEL IS THREATENING TO KILL ME-” 

“IT’S NOT A THREAT IF IT’S REAL, MOTHERFUCKER, C’MERE GAV-”

“Do you really think Ryan’ll come save you, buddy? Pretty sure the fucker will just come help Michael.” He could hear the amusement in Geoff’s voice, even from here.

“RYAN!” 

A shadow settled behind him. He could almost see Jack crossing her arms, a smile gracing her face. “You gonna be out here all night? Wouldn’t blame ya, the kids are running wild.” 

Ryan chuckled and stubbed out his cig. The butt disappeared into darkness as he flicked it over the edge. Hey, he wasn’t a fuckin’ saint. Los Santos was going to end up burning to the ground one way or another, anyways. “Thinkin’ about it.” He turned his head to give her a smile. The light from the penthouse silhouetted her perfectly, making her seem like the angel she really, truly was. “It’s also getting cold. Dunno if freezing to death is worth avoiding the circus.”

Jack laughed and held out her hand. “Come on, baby. Someone’s gotta stop Michael from killing Gavin and it sure ain’t gonna be me.” 

“Not gonna play Mama Jackie tonight?” Ryan teased. He took her hand, holding it perhaps a little too tightly. If she noticed or cared, she didn’t say anything. 

“Nah. Gav was being an ass. I just want to sit down with a glass of wine and a book with one of the loves of my life by my side.” The genuine tone of love in her voice made Ryan’s heart skip a beat. It had been a couple of years since he had joined their poly relationship but it still sent him through a whirlwind of emotions every time one of them said he loved him. That they care about him. But by God, he was never going to give that up. 

“Well, uh,” he cleared his throat. And the absolute lovesick expression he was sure had found its way onto his face, as it does every time a moment like this happened. “Let’s get inside. At least before Michael murders Gav. Don’t wanna miss that.” 

There was a knowing smirk lurking on the edge of Jack’s lips, like she could read his mind. Or she was just amused by how fucking dorky the Vagabond really was underneath the mask. She didn’t say anything more, instead just pulling him inside. The faces of the rest of the Crew came into view and Ryan took a moment to look at each one, from the laughter etched into Geoff and Jeremy’s faces, to the anger in Michael’s, to the panic of Gavin’s. 

He is unsure of what his destiny is. In the end, he found he didn’t care. Life could throw whatever it wanted at him. As long as he had his family, his friends, his lovers by his side he could handle it.


End file.
